


Sleepless Nights

by kampix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hallucinations, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Humor, They/Them Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), mostly because crowley never asked, or so crowley thinks anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25947496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kampix/pseuds/kampix
Summary: In the middle of his living room, just on the edge of the shadows, was someone dressed in a soft-looking, cream-colored outfit. Crowley’s sleep addled mind suggested they had the air of a very comfortable pillow. The figure was standing, almost immobile, back ramrod straight, hands clasped in front of their stomach. The posture seemed to be taking a lot out of them.Crowley’s hallucinations weren’t usually this detailed or convincing. He suspected they had started evolving.“Hello? Are you Anthony J. Crowley?”
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 74





	Sleepless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Aurora for this prompt, it was delightful.

Interesting how staring blankly out of a kitchen window sometime after two in the morning could grow on you, Crowley thought. He poured himself a glass of water and swallowed some pills he knew would have no effect whatsoever. He would need to ask for a stronger dose, yet again. He rested his elbows on the granite counter, chin in his palm, ignoring the uncomfortably cool feeling of the stone against his heated skin. There was nothing to see outside the windows; the dim light of his flat was reflected in it, completely eclipsing the assuredly incredible landscape comprised of buildings, and even more buildings, on the other side of it.

Crowley barely blinked when an unknown figure was suddenly reflected in the glass. His eyes burned. He rubbed at them with his free hand, and downed the rest of his water. Sighing, he turned around to see whatever might be waiting for him in the darkness of his flat that particular night.

In the middle of his living room, just on the edge of the shadows, was someone dressed in a soft-looking, cream-colored outfit. Crowley’s sleep addled mind suggested they had the air of a very comfortable pillow. The figure was standing, almost immobile, back ramrod straight, hands clasped in front of their stomach. The posture seemed to be taking a lot out of them. 

Crowley’s hallucinations weren’t usually this detailed or convincing. He suspected they had started evolving.

“Hello? Are you Anthony J. Crowley?”

Crowley nodded.

The apparition barely waited for the acknowledgement before going ahead with what they had to say. “I do apologize for the sudden appearance, but I was just assigned today and thought it would be polite to introduce myself right away. I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?”

Standing half-naked in his kitchen at two in the morning, with an empty glass in hand, and a bleary stare, Crowley slowly shook his head. The apparition relaxed, falling out of posture before seemingly startling themself. 

“Oh. Oh dear… I forgot my introductory speech. Excuse me a moment.”

They rummaged through their pockets and took out a folded piece of paper and a small pair of glasses. They perched the glasses on their nose and unfolded the paper.

“Dear [Sir/Madam/Other], you have been randomly selected for the Divine Protection program. My name is Aziraphale and I will be your guardian angel for the duration of this contract. Please enjoy the service, and, as always, be not afraid. Terms and conditions may apply.”

The paper and glasses were returned to their respective pockets.

“There. All should be in order now. Although I would need to know what title and pronouns you might prefer. I’m afraid the file was a bit lacking in that regard.”

Crowley cleared his throat. From past experiences, he knew his hallucinations didn’t tend to leave right away. He might as well be polite and humour them.

“Er, it’s Mx and he/him right now, I guess… How d’you get into my flat?”

“I'm not quite sure of the mechanics. I believe an approximative term would be ‘materialization’.”

“Yeah, sure, why not. Just, you know, beam back up to wherever you came from, and I’ll go back to trying to sleep.”

“Are you quite sure you would prefer me to leave? Only I’ve never set foot on earth before… Is there anything you might need help with?”

Weapons-grade puppy-dog eyes were trained directly on Crowley, who had to put down his glass at the sight. Oh great, his subconscious was trying to make him feel bad for his own visions now.

“I’m good...” He sighed. “Look, I don’t really care what you do as long as you don't trash the place or mess with my plants. You can go... grab a book or something.”

“You have books?”

The glow of pure delight emanating from the angel had Crowley reaching for the wall without thinking, in an attempt to dim the lights.

“In the bookcase behind you.”

“Oh, how wonderful. I’ve never seen human books before…”

“Knock yourself out, angel.”

“I beg your pardon?” the angel asked, wide-eyed with concern.

“What?” Crowley had to think for a moment to figure out what was wrong. “Oh. S'an expression. Just means to have fun.”

“Have fun?”

The angel seemed so lost at the thought that Crowley almost felt bad for them.

“Yeah… Like reading a book is fun.”

The wonder in the apparition’s eyes was back in a flash, as if nothing had happened. “I could read one?”

Crowley shrugged. He didn’t care as long as he could go back to bed. “Don’t see why not. You can read them all if you want.”

“I— I see. I believe I will. Thank you.”

“Sure. I'll be in the bedroom, not sleeping, if you need me.”

He closed the door behind him. When the apparition didn’t follow, he figured he’d heard the last of them and dropped himself onto his bed, feet dangling over the edge, without bothering to get under the covers.

After about an hour tossing fruitlessly in his bed, Crowley heard his door creak open. He froze.

“Mx Anthony J. Crowley?”

The angel was still there...

Crowley groaned, flopping onto his side to face them. “Hhng, jus’ Crowley’s fine…”

“Are you still having trouble falling asleep?”

The apparition was standing in the shadows of his doorway, one of his books in hand.

“Nah, I’m doing terrific,” he replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words. “Fast asleep, me.”

“Oh… I had no idea it would look like this. I did think the pamphlet on the topic of human sleep felt a bit outdated but— in any case, I do apologize for disturbing your sleep.

At this point, if only for the entertainment factor and the politeness, he was mentally ranking this angel apparition somewhere in between the meat clown making quesadilla in his kitchen and Betty White stuck in his bedroom ceiling.

The angel turned to leave the room.

“Wait…” He might come to regret this, but at that point, Crowley had given up on sleep for the night. “I was kidding, angel. I still can’t sleep.”

“Oh... Oh good. I mean, not good, obviously…” An awkward silence stretched between them. The angel cleared their throat. “I have something for you.”

“One of my books?”

“Yes!” the angel said, a smidge too loud. “A bedtime story.”

“That’s my astronomy book,” Crowley muttered.

The apparition deflated slightly. “Is it not suitable? I chose it because you seemed to enjoy it quite a lot.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Crowley reassured, then paused. “Wait, why d’you wanna read me a bedtime story?” 

“It occurred to me that since I’ve been assigned to watch over you, I should make sure you get proper rest.”

Crowley found himself unwilling to argue with that kind of logic.

The angel sat on an armchair near the bed, opened the book, and started reading aloud. The first page talked about the Earth. Crowley didn’t much care for the content; he knew it by heart at this point, but the angel had a nice voice. It was soothing and warm, and didn’t quite stress the right syllables at times.

By the tenth planet, Crowley was nodding off. 

The sound of a page turning drifted in a haze towards him. With it, Crowley thought he faintly heard the angel say: “Good night, my dear. Dream of whatever you like best.”

Crowley fell asleep thinking he couldn't remember the last time someone had called him “my dear”.

Sun was filtering through the blinds when an awful noise rang loudly throughout Crowley's flat at seven on the dot. Rudely wrenched away from very pleasant dreams, Crowley groaned, groping around his night stand for his phone. For the first time in months, Crowley was reminded of just how much he hated being awoken by an alarm in the early morning. He did not stop to savor the feeling.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his hands over his face, his brain scrambling to catch up to speed. He stayed there for a moment, trying to wake up fully and remembering the events of the previous night. He thought of the angel.

That one had been kinda fun. He'd never had an hallucination try to help him sleep before. Maybe it would come back at some point. It would certainly make his long nights more interesting.

Dragging his feet, he slipped on a night gown and made his way to the kitchen. He took an apple from the fruit bowl on his table and bit into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something out of place.

There was a slip of paper on his kitchen table he remembered nothing about. He put his apple back in the bowl and slowly closed in on it.

On the paper were a few lines of neat cursive letters.

_Dear Mx Crowley,_

_I believe it is possible I may have misread the protocol regarding earthly visits. It appears I was only meant to show myself in front of you in case of emergencies, or under direct orders from my boss. I do apologize for this. I would appreciate it greatly if you did not mention me to anyone._

_Sincerely,_

_Your guardian angel._

_P.S. I've kept the book Hamlet in my possession. I was not quite finished reading it. I will bring it back on my next visit._

Oh no...

Crowley poked the note with a finger. When it unfortunately did not vanish, he took it delicately between two fingers, scanning each side as if one of them might reveal a hidden camera that would betray his sudden involvement in a prank show. The paper remained paper. If anything, it smelled vaguely of honey.

Crowley sat heavily on the floor, feeling a bit faint. Either last night had been the most convoluted and ridiculous robbery in existence, or there had been a literal angel in his house, he thought a bit hysterically.

He read the note once more. Perhaps he should ask the angel for their name again next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale is absolutely coming back as soon as he can. After all, no part of the protocol said anything about additional visits.


End file.
